


Southern Hospitality

by redtypewriter



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Depression, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Modern AU, Neighbors AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 16:47:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3617049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redtypewriter/pseuds/redtypewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke just can't seem to give her new neighbor a good impression- always causing her grief in one way or another (though most of those problems would go away if Lexa just kept her door locked-but where's the fun in that?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Southern Hospitality

**Author's Note:**

> edited by the lovely Gwyn_Paige  
> you can find me at Kirkwallers.tumblr.com if you please  
> and drop a kudos/comment if you like it-thanks for reading!

 

“Yeah, don’t worry about it... Uh-huh... Uh-huh... Yes I’m still listening... Huh? ...Right, yeah, I said don’t worry about it… I’m not sure...I think Clarke has to work… Okay… Well if we’re not just let yourself in… No, O, it’s fine…. the spare key is on top of the door frame… well then stand on your toes, it’s not that high… Clarke can reach it, you shouldn’t have a problem...Okay… well I might be getting groceries, it depends on what time you get in… Okay...Uh-huh...Alright, see you then...love you, too.” Bellamy moved his head and his phone slipped out onto the floor from where he held it against his shoulder. “Shit,” he muttered, bending down to pick it up, hoping that it didn’t crack (that would be the third one- Verizon was starting to get suspicious).

“How’d she sound?” Clarke asked.

He glanced over and saw that she was still struggling with their half-broken futon. She stood up and stretched her back when the other leg of the futon still wouldn’t fold out- she considered calling Raven, but settled on shoving a dictionary between the corner of the bed and the floor.

“Eh, better than she did last night.” Although, Bellamy guessed, it wouldn’t take much for Octavia to sound better than she did when she called him crying at 2:30 AM last night, telling him how Lincoln had been injured by a landmine in the field and was stuck in a hospital in Afghanistan indefinitely. She had kept her brother on the line for hours, eventually just needing someone to talk to after so much time living on the other side of the country from her brother and her friends. Bellamy, ever being the best brother in America, let her talk. Clarke had gone to bed after the first few hours of bringing her roommate black coffee that kept him alert enough to talk as long as possible, for Octavia’s sake.

“When’s she landing?” Clarke continued to poke and prod for updates from the latest phone call.

She had gathered while listening to Bellamy’s half of the conversation that his sister had booked a flight to get here as soon as she could and took initiative to get the apartment ready for guests. Clarke wasn’t surprised to see that it would to a bit more complicated than anticipated, as neither she nor Bellamy had done any tidying up since their last ‘small’ get together last Saturday, which had ended with their whole place being trashed with brown bottles and their three extra XBox controllers being thrown out the window in Raven’s drunken pique of rage after losing a second round of Call of Duty.

“She’s supposed to land around seven,” Bellamy answered.

He laughed a little bit (quietly, as not to awaken the infamous CrankyClarke (trademark pending) by laughing at her for not being able to reach to top shelf without a stool). He pretended not to notice, but finally came to help her get the spare sheets down when he heard her little huff of exasperation.

“Thanks.” She took the sheets from him and set to work making the futon bed.

“When does your shift end?” Bellamy asked her, hoping that somebody could be here to greet Octavia so he could get a moment to go get some errands done before his sister arrived.

“Eight,” Clarke said.

“Right, okay, that’s fine I’ll just hang out here then and clean up. Can you pick up some groceries on your way home?”

Clarke loved it when Octavia came to visit, because every time she did, Bellamy suddenly became responsible and productive- Clarke had half a mind to remind him that Octavia wasn’t an impressionable little girl anymore, and she probably didn’t need her big brother on his best behavior to set a good example, but the extra groceries in the kitchen and tampons in the bathroom were worth keeping her mouth shut.

“Well, my shift starts in fifteen minutes I should get going,” Clarke said, leaving the half-made pullout bed behind and hoisting a brown backpack over one shoulder.

“Monty wanted me to ask you if you could get him any Xanax.” Bellamy took over bedmaking duty.

“For health or pleasure?”

Bellamy snorted a laugh. “Monty? Honestly I’ve got no idea anymore.”

Clarke laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.” She gave him a final wave, even though he was facing away from her, and went out the door.

 

Clarke rarely paid attention when she left her room- the other people on her floor, mostly young professionals with steady jobs and middle aged women who stop by the bar after dropping their kids off at school, rarely stuck around after 9 AM and the lack of people really made it seem like the subject of an urban exploration site- completely abandoned and completely gross with the muddy carpeting and the water damage leaking down the walls from the ceiling above. But, while she tapped away a message to her mom, she ran headfirst into a stranger. The girl’s bag crashed to the floor and everything went rolling in a myriad of different directions.

“Son of a bitch!” The girl cursed in what Clarke thought might have been a Floridian accent and stumbled forward.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry.” Clarke stopped quickly and ducked down to help pick up the girl’s things. She scrambled to grab a bottle of mascara that was trying to evade capture.

Needless to say- Lexa’s morning wasn’t going well. One of her neighbors- Lexa could never quite be sure which one of the many, _many_ people that went in and out of the apartment next door actually lived there, but she had narrowed it down to The Blonde, Freckles, Goggles, and The One That’s Always Covered In Motor Oil- had spent the night talking loudly on the phone, seemingly pressed against the wall that he shared with Lexa’s bedroom. So her lack of sleep, paired with _over_ sleeping past her alarm, an early meeting to get to, and now her bag being tossed like a house salad, added up to a really bad morning.

But, at least The Blonde was being helpful about it, anyway. Sort of. Trying to be helpful anyway. In reality, The Blonde was crawling rapidly after a single tube of mascara that was rolling down the hall, leaving the victim of the incident to gather the rest of her things as quickly as possible. At some point The Blonde stumbled back and handed the makeup to Lexa, who took it silently. The Blonde looked puzzled, as if she was expecting a smile from her.

“I’m Clarke, by the way,” she said, trying to break the fog of intense awkwardness by saying something. Lexa nodded but didn’t reply. She just shoved the rest of her things into her bag and made her way down the stairs.

 

Octavia’s flight had been delayed, she had been sat between a crying toddler and a neglectful parent who refused to switch seats, her phone was dead, and finally, hours later, when she made it to Bellamy’s apartment Octavia realized that she had to drag her suitcase up the three flights of stairs- still not understanding why her brother would choose to live in a building without an elevator (Maybe it was a fitness thing? They drink a lot of beer so maybe they’re trying to burn some calories?). When she was in sight of Bellamy’s door she thought that it might have been a mirage- like she had been abandoned in the desert and an oasis was just within her grasp, but from the way that no light was coming from underneath the door- Octavia suspected that it was about to be ripped away from her, because the oasis was an illusion, as was her ability to reach a spare key her brother put on top of a doorframe.

But Octavia wasn’t one to give up, so she tried the door anyway, and to her surprise, the knob turned. She opened the door and felt along the wall for a switch, which, when she found one, seemed to bathe the room in an eerie green light which made the whole room look like it was underwater. The green light wasn’t the weirdest part of the situation, though. Aparently in Octavia’s extended absence from her brother’s life, he and Clarke had taken up the art of taxidermy, herbology, witchcraft, and every other creepy hobby that Octavia could think of, if she were to guess by looking at the room laid in front of her.

She propped her suitcase against the wall and cautiously closed the door behind her.

“Bellamy?” she called out into the void before her with no answer. Not in the mood to mess around and not wanting to take off her clothes to put on her pajamas just in case there are hidden cameras somewhere and Ashton Kutcher was hiding behind the couch, so Octavia made a beeline for the fridge.

“ _When did you two become health nuts?_ ” Octavia muttered to herself. The fridge stunk of vegetables and was overflowing with what looked like kale or whatever overgrown leaf was trendy this year. Sensing that the fridge was a lost cause she moved onto the cupboards, opening every door and yielding no success. She groaned loudly and spun around. Her elbow crashed into something, and that’s when time seemed to stand still.

 

“Octavia should be here by now,” Bellamy said again, flopping down next to his roommate on the futon.

“Calm down, she’ll get here soon enough.” Clarke wriggled around to make rom for Bellamy. “I think this is comfier than my bed,” she said, mostly to herself.

“Yeah, it really is,” Bellamy answered, letting his head loll to the side to look at her staring at the ceiling. Clarke’s lips curled into a smile.

“How do you know how comfy my bed is?” she asked back.

“When I left my window open during that storm and we didn’t have a couch yet you let me sleep with you, remember?” He grimaced at his poor choice of words.

_It had been a dark and stormy day, and both Bellamy and Clarke were busy with their jobs and classes and daily chores. The night before had been hot and Bellamy left his window open in a desperate attempt to get some air into the crowded space, and then proceeded to leave it open the following day. The rain had pelted the city for hours, and when they got home every item in Bellamy’s room had been soaked through to it’s bones. After a lot of swearing, of borrowing Clarke’s hairdryer, and getting a few bags of rice to soak everything in, the only thing left was the bed._

_“Yeah...that’s not drying anytime soon,” Clarke had said, trying her best to suppress a smile and a laugh at Bellamy’s horrified face. “C’mon, Poseidon you can bunk with me.” She elbowed him hard enough to break him out of his prison of moist discomfort._

_“Not sure how Finn would feel about that, Princess. You sure?”_

_“It’s not like you’re trying to fuck me, and Finn loves helping people. Besides- I don’t need my boyfriend’s permission to do anything- kapish?” She seemed to be taking the question harder than Bellamy had anticipated._

_“Relax, Clarke I was kidding,” he said, even if it was only to keep her from ripping his head off, or worse, revoking her offer of a dry bed._

_“Right. Sorry. Yeah just sleep in a shirt and we’re golden.” She patted him on the shoulder and walked into her room._

Clarke laughed. “How could I forget.” Bellamy noticed her smile falter just a bit and regretted bringing it up. Their whole group learned last year that Clarke’s method of coping is repression and the best way to keep her in a good mood was just to not mention Finn Collins or anything associated with him. Ever. On the opposite side of the grief spectrum was Raven, which caused a lot of problems in their inner circle. While everybody was doing their best to avoid the topic of Finn, Raven seemed to be unable to talk about anything else- always bringing up funny stories and then starting to laugh hysterically, which would lead to her getting angry and throwing whatever she was holding at the wall. Raven had gotten over this eventually- but nobody was ever quite sure where Clarke stood, whether or not she had moved on or if she was still caught in some kind of mind prison.

“I, uh…” Bellamy wasn’t usually at a loss for words but Clarke wasn’t really somebody that you could shake out of melancholy with shouting and motivational speeches, which tended to leave him at a loss for words. He shifted uncomfortably on the futon and Clarke sat up and glanced around the room as if something there would save her from all these tainted memories.

“Maybe you should try to call Octavia again,” Clarke suggested.

“It just goes right to voicemail, I think it’s dead.”

“Oh.”

Bellamy chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking of some chore he could do or something he could say to make Clarke smile again. His thoughts were cut short, however, by a shrill scream coming from the room to their right. This wasn’t an ‘oh my god stop tickling me Becky!!’ scream either- this was a ‘please don’t kill me I have a wife and two children’ kind of scream. Clarke leaped into action and ran out the door, skidding a bit at the sharp turn from the hallway to the next apartment.

Octavia was standing on a leather chair, her eyes wide and a blood-curdling scream coming from her open mouth.

“Octavia?” Clarke shouted, more surprised than anything else. She looked around the room frantically for whatever it was that had made the ever-badass Octavia so damn scared. In her rapid search Clarke barely registered how absolutely weird this room was, with all kinds of crazy- with that kind of art that has people being eaten by certain predatory animals and an _actual bearskin run_ , though that wasn’t what was important right now.

“Octavia what’s going on?” Clarke shouted at her when Octavia screamed again.

“It’s on the coffee table!”

Clarke turned around and that’s when she saw it. The biggest spider she had ever seen in her life, crawling towards her at a surprisingly fast pace. She screamed.

Bellamy had watched Clarke run towards the scream, much to his dismay. He had never met their next-door neighbor but he had seen her in the hall once and she didn’t look like the kind of woman to be scared easily- then again, neither was Clarke. He pinched the bridge of his nose, deciding whether or not she would be able to handle this on her own and came to the conclusion that she probably could, but could also use some backup. He groaned when he got up from the futon. When he heard Clarke scream he stopped being slow, and practically sprinted out the door.

Bellamy felt like he probably should’ve expected what he saw next, not unlike when he tried putting together a table from IKEA, but ended up with a chair- it was unexpected, but he really should’ve seen it coming.

Clarke was backed into a corner, looking frantic, and Octavia- when had she gotten here anyway?- was standing on the couch pointing at something. He didn’t leap into action right away, as he probably should have, but ended up just staring at them, completely dumbfounded. Then he saw Clarke move. She swallowed hard, her eyes went wide, and her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.

“Bellamy. Whatever you do. Don’t. Move,” she said, almost calmly.

He froze- whatever scared Clarke this much was sure to do him in. Clarke grabbed a book that looked heavy and walked towards him slowly. Bellamy squeezed his eyes shut.

“Don’t kill it!” Octavia shouted.

“What am I supposed to do? Release it into the wild? It’s about to kill your brother!”

The words ‘kill your brother’ and an ominous tingling on his arm made him open one eye and peek at his left arm. There was a giant fuzzy beast making its way up to him shoulder. He wanted to stay calm, he really did, but his instinct outweighed his heart as he loudly shouted ‘Son of a bitch!’ and jerked his arm, causing the spider to fly off and against the wall.

But the monster was not to be discouraged. A little stunned at first from its heavy fall it took a moment to pull itself back up onto its many legs. Bellamy scrambled to the other side of the room and shoved himself between his roommate and his sister, all of them standing on the stranger’s couch now.

“What the hell is going on here?” Bellamy whispered harshly, as if it would hear their battle plans against it. Clarke shook her head to tell him that she had no idea, so they both looked to Octavia.

“I have no idea how your spider got out!” She matched her brother’s tone.

“Our spider?” Clarke asked.

“ _Shit_.” The realization hit Octavia later than it should have. “I came into the wrong apartment.”

Bellamy looked like he was about to say something, or scold his sister for her irresponsibility, but now was not the time for turning against one another. Clarke knew that they would have to band together to defeat the horror.

“It doesn’t matter how it happened, we just need to figure out what to do,” Clarke said more loudly than she intended. She glanced back in the spider’s direction to make sure it hadn’t heard her-it was probably already on edge and planning it’s revenge it’s impromptu trip to the wall. “What we need is a plan.”

Bellamy thought for a moment. “Okay, what we need to do is capture it. Octavia- where’s its cage?” She pointed to the kitchen where the glass box lay smashed on the floor. He nodded, wondering angrily what eccentric old woman he had cut off in traffic that had cursed him to always end up involved in situations like this whenever they arose. “Then we’ll have to find another kind of box. One of us needs to be the bait, lure the spider to the person holding the box, who’ll slam it down on top of it before it can crawl away.” Clarke nodded and searched the room for a box. She spotted one in by the sink, holding the dirty dishes.

“I’ll get the box- Bellamy, you’re the bait.”

“What do I do?” Octavia said.

“You’re the backup. You need to make it out of here, in case one of us falls,” Bellamy said dramatically.

Octavia would’ve rolled her eyes at his melodrama where the situation not so dire. Clarke nodded and darted to the kitchen, tossing the dirty dishes into the sink, undoubtedly breaking just one. She saw a pair of dish gloves and put them on as an extra precaution. Bellamy grabbed the silver top of the trashcan and held it in front of himself like a knight with a shield, about to go slay the dragon terrorizing their kingdom.

He moved stealthily behind the spider as clarke got in position, crouching down and propping the box against the floor. With a fierce battle cry Bellamy ran at the tarantula, scaring it and driving it towards their clever trap. Clarke let out of whine of fear the closer it got. When the eldritch horror finally reached her after what felt like a thousand eternities, she slammed the box down, effectively trapping it inside. The quickly threw herself on top of the bin to make sure it couldn’t force its way out. Octavia let out a laugh of relief.

“What do we do now?” Clarke asked, looking at Bellamy. “You do have a plan, right?”

“Uh, I didn’t think that far ahead- I’m surprised this worked actually.”

Clarke groaned, still holding down the box.

“What the _fuck_ is going on here?” A new voice came from the doorway.

All their heads snapped to look at the horrified woman looking at what was, presumably, her apartment, which the three of them had expertly trashed.

And here Lexa was thinking that her purse falling apart was the worst part of her day.

“I can explain,” Octavia said, with absolutely no possible idea what she could say to make this situation any better.

“Your spider got out,” Bellamy offered lamely and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Cos? Where is she? You didn’t kill her did you?” The woman looked, and sounded, surprisingly worried.

“No, it- she’s under here.” Clarke patted the box underneath her chest.

“Get out,” She shouted, pointing at the door which she was surprised was still on its hinges.

That was all they needed to run out of the room. She slammed the door shut behind them.

“Shit,” Octavia cursed when she noticed the absence of her suitcase. She gulped and turned around to knock on the door. She opened it, not looking any less angry.

“I-uh- left my suitcase in here.”

The furious woman grabbed the case that sat by the door and shoved it out into the hallway, shutting the door even harder this time.

 

Back in the apartment, the three of them, near simultaneously, flopped themselves down on the futon. Clarke covered her face with her hands and rubbed her eyes. Bellamy was still breathing heavily. Octavia was the first one to start laughing, and Clarke quickly followed, catching the giggle bug the longer Octavia laughed. Bellamy looked at the two of them like they had two heads, but they didn’t take long to lighten his mood.

No matter who you were, you loved to watch Clarke laugh. Her eyes closed and crinkled with her head thrown back and a huge smile. If you got her going hard enough she would stop making noise and just double over in hysterics, maybe start clapping like some kind of mute seal. Bellamy wished that she laughed even half as often as she used to. He hadn’t seen her like this in too long, nobody had.

_She had laughed like this right before the call. Beer bottle in hand standing in a circle of their friends. “Okay, you cannot just leave me without telling another one.”_

_“He wouldn’t want me to tell you-” Raven’s protests weren’t very convincing._

_“Don’t care. I’ve gotta know at least one bad middle school story. Those are amazing there’s literally no better way to make fun of someone.” Her words were only just starting to slur, and they could all hear her smile._

_“Fine, fine, fine- but only because you asked nicely, Princess,” Raven said and Clarke snorted a laugh. “Alright- sixth grade school play. Finn was the star- rock number three. Really just stole the show. So he didn’t have any lines, right? But he wanted to be the star so badly that right in the middle of the play he started shouting out different lines that he remembered from_ Die Hard _.”_

_“Holy shit.” Clarke tried unsuccessfully to swallow her drink through bouts of laughter._

_“Yeah I think that was one of them. Anyway, someone came and grabbed him after ‘_ No fucking shit- does it sound like I’m ordering a pizza _?’”_

_That did Clarke in, beer came out her nose and she dropped the bottle, absolutely doubled over laughing as hard as she could. She must’ve been like that for at least 10 minutes without stopping. Soon, she had everybody else laughing along with her, the whole group just spiraling down into fits of giggles. Around the time she started to shout ‘I can’t breathe’ in a breathy voice that was strained with joy, she began to wind down._

She stopped after the phone rang. They didn’t hear her laugh for a long time after that, and Bellamy hadn’t quite realized how much he missed hearing it until now.

“Maybe we should go apologize,” Clarke said finally after the fit died out.

“Don’t do that- if she sees your face again she might decide to press charges,” Octavia said.

“I mean we could at least offer to pay for damages.”

Bellamy pulled out his phone to google Tarantula habitat pricing. “Nope. With all the fixings it’s about 200.”

“Bake her cookies?” Clarke suggested.

“You broke all her dishes- I’m not sure that reminding her of food would help,” Octavia said.

“Well we’ve got to do something.”

“Count me out,” The Blakes said together. Clarke chuckled at their twin-like synchronicity.

“Alright, well, it’s getting late- I should get to bed. Got an early shift tomorrow.” Clarke sat up and stretched before making her way to her room.

“I should probably go to bed too.” Octavia sighed, looking at her brother, searching for something in his face.

“Any news yet?” He had to ask.

“No. Not yet. I don’t know what’s gonna happen- I’m just glad I’m here.” Bellamy put his arm around her and pulled her into a tight hug.

“He’ll be okay, O. He always is,” he whispered against her hair.

 

Clarke watched them through a crack in her door. She missed it- having somebody to talk her down like that, and being somebody’s favorite person. She used to have that- Finn was like that. When she found out what her mom had done to her dad-landing him in jail for minor possession, Finn had been there for her, pulling Clarke tight against his chest and kissing the top of her head, letting her cry for as long as she could. She reluctantly remembered him resting his cheek against the top of her head and his long hair falling down to tickle her nose. That always made her smile through her grief, and he always remembered that. She’d found herself in a few random bars with strangers kissing her neck, and their hair falling down to tickle her nose and sometimes when she closed her eyes she could still imagine that it was her Finn, all her memories perfectly in tact- but when she opened them it was always wrong, and she would go home feeling more empty than she did before.

Nobody slept well that night.

 

Both of the Blakes had been very adamant of Clarke not going to go apologize to their (probably traumatised) neighbor, so Clarke decided to listen. She knew that the two of them rarely made good decisions, but when they actually agreed on the proper course of action, Clarke figured that they were worth listening to(and knew there would be Hell to pay if she didn’t). Clarke knew that the right course of action would be to apologise, which is what her mother would have told her to do- but she also didn’t have enough money to make up for any of the damage they caused (which was, undoubtedly, a lot), so Clarke settled on saving her own skin.

Her dad would’ve told her to pull her pride up by its bootstraps and go and apologize- being the bigger person was always the best road to take. But, Clarke mused, her dad wasn’t here, so she didn’t have to listen to him. But Dad’s hypothetical words still tickled the back of her neck on her way to work when she passed her neighbor’s door.

She shoved it out of her mind and down the garbage chute for the rest of the work day. She smiled at her boss as he passed and tried to get away quickly, hoping that he wouldn’t stop to ask her why she hadn’t come in on time. Clarke’s luck hadn’t been the best lately- so she wasn’t surprised when he put his hand up to stop her when she got close enough.

“Clarke, hold a moment,” Kane said. Clarke stopped walking and turned to face him, a wide, fake smile plastered on her face. He seemed to notice and his brow furrowed.

“There’s no need for excuses, your mother just wanted me to tell you to come see her,” he said.

“Are you running her errands now too then?” Clarke joked and hoped that she wasn’t overstepping any bounds with him. She often tip-toed on that line, between talking to him as the responsible med student’s boss or talking to him as her mom’s maybe-kinda-sorta-not-really boyfriend. To make things worse, Kane seemed to have a hard time deciding which one to use as well, making most of their little talks (which were few and far between) awkward at best.

But to Clarke’s relief, Kane laughed. “You say that as if every other board member here isn’t under her thumb.”

She nodded in agreement and shrugged. “I guess she just has that effect on people.”

Kane laughed, but there was a glimmer in his eye. “And you are your mother’s daughter.”

“Does that mean that you’ll do my bidding too?”

He smiled at her joke. “No, but maybe the other nurses or those friends of yours will.” Kane chuckled and seemed to shrink when a burly nurse, who had clearly heard him, shot him a dirty look.

“I’m not sure that ‘those friends of mine’ would listen to anybody.”

“That is probably true- from what I’ve seen of them, they seem like a wild bunch. You don’t seem the sort of girl to associate with people like that.” Clarke wasn’t entirely sure what he meant, or if she should be taking offence on behalf of her friends. His face was a bit more serious than before.

“Well, somebody has to keep ‘em in line, right? And nobody else was stepping up to the plate.” She laughed nervously, completely unsure of what he wanted to hear.

“Right. Well, you should go talk to your mother.” He patted her on the back when he began to walk slowly away. “Not wise to keep her waiting.”

“Got it.” She waved him goodbye and rushed to the elevator before it closed.

 

When she got to Abby’s office she was on the phone, scribbling something down on a notepad to her left. “I don’t really care who you put on it, I just want it done… no… no not him either… I just told you it’s your decision… just- just call me back when you choose someone, alright?” She hung up the phone as soon as she saw Clarke without waiting for a reply.

“Oh good, you’re here.” Abby pushed out an overstuffed chair by her desk for her daughter to sit on. Clarke proceeded cautiously, not trusting the unusual and vaguely sympathetic facial expression. When she sat down her mom turned a bit and forcefully relaxed herself. She tilted her head and gave her daughter half a smile- an expression that Clarke had learned last year meant ‘oh, honey, I’m so sorry. How’re you handling all this?’- so she braced herself for whatever pity party her mom was about to rain down onto her.

“How are you feeling, sweetie?” Abby asked while patting Clarke’s knee.

“Uh, I’m fine...why wouldn’t I be?” Clarke was puzzled at her mother’s odd behaviour, hoping that she didn’t miss any life-changing bad news during the spider incident.

“I just know that we’re coming up on the anniversary of...y’know.” She lowered her voice. Clarke was used to it now- the way people avoided saying the actual words. She was always tempted to pretend that she had no idea what they were talking about, just to see how far she could make them go. Would they stop at whispering, ‘y’know...Finn’, would they ever say ‘Finn’s accident’? Clarke doubted that nobody would ever be blunt enough to say ‘since you’re boyfriend’s car got railed by a sixteen wheeler’. Sometimes Clarke wished they would, she wasn’t sure why. Validation, maybe.

“Oh, right.” Clarke’s shoulders drooped a little. The truth was, she hadn’t even noticed the date ticking by and the reminder wasn’t doing any favors to her mental stability. She tried her best not to think about what happened, or about anything that involved Finn, if she was honest, because when she did that she could at least pretend to be happy. When she remembered anything about him- which was hard not to do because all those little reminders were everywhere, from his razor still sitting in the medicine cabinet that she didn’t ever have the heart to get rid of, or whenever somebody went on a beer run and got Finn’s favorite kind, damnit, even her coffee order was unsafe territory because their order had always been the same- whenever she remembered him the world turned grey. Her ears got stuffed with cotton and her mouth filled up with ash, and everything around her just seemed so stale when she remembered what had happened to him.

“I just wanted to make sure that you were alright.”

Clarke laughed bitterly. “Well, I was until you mentioned it, but thanks.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I just thought-”

Clarke interrupted her. “I know what you thought. It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s all...fine.” her voice failed her on the last word.

“You can take the rest of the day off if you want. I can fudge it- make it look like you had an extra vacation day.”

Clarke felt her eyes start to water. She forced back any tears with a fierce wave of willpower, hoping to scare them away so badly that they never decided to come back.

“Nah, Octavia’s there and she’s going through some stuff. I should leave them be.” She almost hoped that her mom would insist, so she could give in and go home and still say that she tried to power through it.

“Are you sure?”

Clarke shrugged, wishing for a moment that her mom would treat her like a child and carry her inside from the car and tuck her tightly into bed. She could use that right about now- then again, she could’ve used that a long time ago, too. She took a deep breath to steady herself- and made the decision that maybe she should treat herself, just this once.

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

Abby let out a breath and smiled. “If you need anything at all these next few days you just call me alright?”

Clarke nodded and stood up. “I’ll talk to you later, Mom.”

“Let me know when you get home safe. I love you.” She’d made that request every day since Finn’s accident.

“Love you too.”

 

She stopped to get some groceries on her way home, pausing for a moment when she saw the pet food aisle to laugh and wonder if she could use tarantula food as a peace offering between them and Weird Neighbor Girl. They didn’t have anything but cat and dog food, as it turned out, so she just set herself to work getting the things that she needed. A few cases of beer, those awesome soft cookies with the pink frosting, and a surprisingly nice bottle of wine for herself. On the way out she saw a table of Girl Scouts selling cookies and decided that her day had just improved tenfold.

Clarke lugged her bags up the three flights of stairs to her floor and only dropped one bag on the trip, much to her delight. Almost to her door, she paused, glancing in the direction of her neighbor’s bare black door. She turned to face it, lifted her fist to knock, but hesitated. Clarke took a deep breath and shook all her other ideas out of her head.

She opened on the first knock. Her face was grim when she saw who her visitor was. Her absurd amount of black eyeliner somehow made her look even angrier than she was last night. Clarke laughed nervously.

“Hi, I’m Clarke, from next door-”

“Yes, I remember you. From when you knocked me over and when you and your friends broke into my home and tried to kill my spider.” The woman crossed her arms and set herself in an intimidating stance.

“Right. I just wanted to apologize, I, uh.” Clarke reached into one of the grocery bags and pulled out a box of tagalongs. “Here, I thought you might like this, as a gift for messing up your place yesterday.” She mentally crossed her fingers, hoping that the raccoon girl was a fan of peanut butter.

She took the cookies tentatively. “You broke all my dishes and you’re giving me cookies?” She raised a thick eyebrow (Clarke couldn’t help but admire them, and she was tempted to ask where she got them done, but decided against it.)

“Well, uh, we have some plates that you could have. I mean they’re plastic and we only have three, but you could have one if you wanted.” Clarke couldn’t read her’s stony face at all.

“That will not be necessary. And you keep the cookies- I’m sure your friends have the munchies at this point.” She shoved the tagalongs back into Clarke’s hands with what seemed like more force than necessary. Clarke wasn’t exactly sure what she meant about her friends getting the munchies, but decided against second guessing. She backed up and began to close the door, but Clarke shoved out her hand to stop it from shutting.

“Wait, one second, what’s your name?” Clarke asked.

“Lexa.”

 

Once she got back to her apartment, Clarke understood what Lexa meant when she assumed that her friends would have the munchies. Just about everybody she knew was there- it was a wonder that she didn’t hear their cacophonous babbling while talking to Lexa.

Octavia seemed to have incited this riot- as she was the one standing in the middle of the table with an entire bottle of what looked like vodka and shouting lyrics to N’Sync songs. Jasper and Monty sat in the corner with the bong they stowed under Bellamy and Clarke’s sofa and were laughing hysterically over something incoherent. Raven was hanging out the window smoking a cigarette, and Bellamy was sitting on their kitchen counter laughing his ass off (Clarke took an educated guess that Bellamy had taken a hit with Jasper and Monty not too long ago.). When Jasper saw Clarke he burst out laughing.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, not necessarily upset, but a little confused why all her friends were getting shitfaced in her living room at 11 AM on a Tuesday. Jasper just kept laughing.

“We heard about your little adventure last night,” Raven shouted with her torso still hanging out the window. Clarke laughed, even if she was a little uncomfortable.

“Bellamy, can I talk to you for a second.” Clarke grabbed him and dragged him into her room.

“It would’ve been nice if you’d warned me about this,” she scolded.

“I thought you’re shift ended at ten. They’d all have been gone by then.” He laughed and she couldn’t help but smile, just a little bit.

“So you throw a party at our apartment and don’t even invite me?” Clarke was starting to have war flashbacks to her unpopular high school days- having braces and until senior year didn’t do her any favors. The only way she ever got into parties back then was after she met Finn and he snuck her in, bless his heart.

“It’s not that we didn’t want to invite you- O just wanted to see the gang and thought you’d be at work.” It was obvious that he was trying not to tell her something.

“She thought I’d be a downer, didn’t she?” Clarke crossed her arms.

“Well you’re not usually the first person to suggest heavy drinking this early in the day.”

“Hey, come on, I can be _fun_!”

“She didn’t say you’d be a downer, she just thought that you’d be, y’know, responsible about it.”

“I can be fun! I’ll prove to you that I can be fun!” She ignored whatever Bellamy tried to say next and stuck a finger in his face.

Clarke swung open her door and beelined for Octavia. “Gimme some of that.” She reached her hand up for Octavia’s bottle. O snorted a laugh and handed it down. Clarke brought the bottle to her lips and took a swig. Her throat burned when she swallowed and she started coughing.

“What the hell was that?” Clarke shouted. She was doubled over with one hand steadying herself on the table and one gripping her stomach.

“Moonshine-what did you think it was?” Octavia laughed.

“Literally why would I ever guess that it was moonshine?” Clarke could already feel it kicking in.

“I’m 19, what else am I supposed to drink?”

“I don’t know, wine coolers? Anything else?” She couldn’t stop herself from trying to scold Octavia.

“C’mon Clarke- don’t be such a bummer!” somebody, maybe Raven, shouted from the back of the room.

“I am not a bummer!” She didn’t mean to sound so angry. Raven looked a little taken aback, and Clarke felt the same way.

Maybe I am a downer. Clarke thought- trying to remember the last time that she’d gotten drunk and hadn’t started to cry after her fifth beer. She didn’t have to try very hard, though, she knew exactly when the last time that she’d been happy-drunk was. The same night that she was laughing about Die Hard. She felt the pang in her chest that she’d deliberately been trying to avoid by leaving work early, and Clarke knew that she had two choices: She could take Octavia’s moonshine, lock herself in her bedroom, and give into her primal urge to feel sorry for herself or she could take Octavia’s moonshine, take a hit from Jasper, and let herself give another shot to having fun.

Clarke decided on the latter.

She picked up Octavia’s bottle again and took a sip, forcing herself not to react so strongly this time. Octavia cheered and Clarke wiped her mouth. Today was going to be a better day.


End file.
